Legacy
by eharp0814
Summary: This takes place after the season five finale, "The Diamond of the Day," with a bit of a twist.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This takes place after the season 5 finale.

The light of the morning sky slowly streams across Arthur's face, causing his eyes to flutter slowly. There is a weight on his chest, not entirely restrictive, but noticeable that it causes his breath to labor, somewhat. He shifts slightly and is jarred by a pain in his lower groin, quickly dashing the remnants of sleep from his body.

"Bloody hell!" he swears as he bolts upright.

The weight rolls to his side and Arthur examines it through sleep-heavy eyes. A mop of tousled, caramel curls falls away to reveal a set of brown eyes, broad grin, save one missing front tooth.

"Morning, Dad."

"Thomas."

Arthur sighs, reluctantly greeting his son's cheery expression with a chuckle of his own.

He stands, grabs his pillow off the bedroom floor and lightly tosses it at the youngster, who responds with an exaggerated "Oomph."

"Mum, Dad hit me."

"Serves you right," calls a voice from distance.

"He hit me first," retorts/replies Arthur, mimicking the child's tone. Sticking his tongue out playfully, he ducks just as the pillow sails past his head.

"Missed," he teases. "You should really work on your follow-through," he adds, sidestepping a second pillow launched in his direction. It skirts the chest of drawers behind him, knocking over small bottles of perfume, before joining its twin on the ground.

"Arthur, really?"

Gwen enters the room, picking the pillows from the bedroom floor. Slightly frustrated at the antics of her husband and six-year-old, but not surprised.

With sun-kissed skin, Thomas may share some of her features, but he is definitely his father's son. She hoped he would inherit more of her temperament, but the precocious lad proves as excitable and impetuous as the young Arthur.

"Go get ready or you'll make us both late," she swats Thomas on the bottom as he hops from the bed. Despite having a room of his own, Thomas often finds his way in bed next to his parents—much to the discomfort of his father.

"Ouch. That hurts," he turns to face her, hands folded across his chest; sporting a pout she's seen countless times on his father's face.

She bends down to his level, hands on hips. "Not nearly enough," she replies.

"Now hurry up and get dressed." She scoots him out the bedroom door and returns to face his father, hands folded across her chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Must you encourage him?" she asks, trying to conceal a small smile forming at her lips.

"I was defending my honor," he responds dramatically, hand over heart.

Gwen shakes her head and turns to the mirror to finish getting dressed, all the while watching Arthur in the reflection. His hair is as messy as the youngster's; strands defying gravity, sticking every which way.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks as she lines her lips.

Arthur yawns and stretches. "You mean before I was viciously attacked?"

He shrugs and absently scratches his chest, slumps down and perches on the footboard of their bed.

She releases a barrette and a cascade of loose curls drops to her neck, piquing Arthur's interest. He enjoys watching her get ready; mesmerized by her morning routine of lotions and creams.

"_At least he's in good humor," she thinks to herself._

Lately, there have been nights his agitated motions have roused Gwen from her slumber. She would feel him beside her, tossing and turning as if battling some imaginary foe—only the caress of her hand against his cheek would steady his restlessness. Leaning in close, she strained to make out unintelligible words that periodically escaped his breath. Not until Arthur calmed, did she drift back to sleep.

But then, there were other nights. The ones where he laid so eerily still, his breath so shallow, his chest barely moved the covers. His skin appeared ashen and cool to the touch. Holding vigil next to his body, Gwen fought the desire to violently shake him until he stirred. On those nights, only the reassuring sound of his beating heart staid the panic building within her as she laid in his arms. By morning, Arthur woke exhausted—hard-pressed to remember the frenzied mix of images and sensations that overtook his unconscious mind.

"What would you do if you didn't have me to fret about?" he asks, enveloping her from behind in a tight embrace. She returns his affection, stroking his arm with her unoccupied hand.

"I'd probably get a good night's sleep," she responds.

"I'm surprised he woke you this time."

"It's fine. I was almost awake, anyway," he says, as another large yawn escapes.

He leans in to the bureau and examines the stubble dotting his face. The hair above his lip is sparse, but flecks of golden brown threaten to overtake his jaw. "Maybe I'll grow it out this time," he says rubbing the prickly hair.

Gwen makes a face.

Arthur leans over and kisses her on her now plum rose lips, being sure to rub the rough texture of hair against her cheeks. She breaks into a fit of laughter and tries unsuccessfully to pull away, using her hairbrush to block his advances.

Arthur feigns outrage. "What? You don't agree?"

"Why? So you can look like one of those rough, tough, save the world kind of men…" she trails off.

"Gwen? Gwen?" he calls as she stares blankly into space.

"Hmm…what?" she startles, turning to face him.

"Where did you go?" he laughs.

"I don't…know," she says quizzically. "You know when you feel like you've done or said something before?"

"Déjà vu?" he offers.

"Yes…but…no," she continues, brows furrowed.

Arthur cocks one confused eyebrow at his wife. She places her hands over her face and laughs at herself.

"Am I missing something?"

"You miss a lot. But no, not in this case." She rises up on manicured tiptoes to kiss his bottom lip, protruding in a sulky pout.

"I'm lost."

"So was I," says Gwen, waving the conversation off. "It was nothing." She turns to the mirror to reapply her smeared lipstick.

"It's silly, though," she says dropping the cosmetic.

"Um…yes, I guess?" responds Arthur tentatively, unsure of his wife's current train of thought.

"I swear I've said that before…Well, maybe not…I did…just not with you…or maybe it was about you with someone else," she rambles on, trying to shake the slightly unsettling feeling.

"All right, then" says Arthur, unconvinced. "Well, that clears everything up."

"I mean…" she cocks her head to the side, looking up at him. "It was just an odd thing to say. I don't know why it seems so familiar."

"So, I'm not a rough, tough, save the world kind of man?" he prods, flexing his biceps in the mirror.

Just then a small "yelp" comes from across the hall.

"I've been known to slay a few monsters in my day," says Arthur.

"Yes, the kind that hides under beds and in closets. Can you?" she nods her head in the direction of their son's room.

"As you wish, my lady," he bows as he exits, resulting in a sigh and quick roll of the eyes from Gwen.


End file.
